Perverted Ghosts
by Artemid
Summary: Someone is there, when Harry rushes over to Draco at the bathroom. HBP spoiler, H/D slash, Myrtle.


Hi there! This fic was written for a challenge, it's rated PG-13, genre angst, and with slash (Harry/Draco). If you don't like/agree with slash, don't read the fic.

The rest, you are more than welcome to read and review..:)

Warning(s): Moaning Myrtle's PoV counts as a warning…? ;)

Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling.

Many thanks to my beta Natty!

**Perverted Ghosts**

Draco's reaction surprised Harry Potter, though why it did was beyond her imagination.

Of course, Harry Potter didn't get to know Draco like _she_ had during the past year.

He hadn't been there when Draco had first come to her place, full of anguish and frustration, tired, with dark shadows under his eyes and constant fears and nightmares about his actions and their aftermath in his mind.

He hadn't been there when Draco had begun losing his patience, throwing books everywhere and smashing his fists into the sinks with such force, over and over again till his hands had bled a deep red colour.

He hadn't been there when she had tried to help Draco, cajole him and pacify him, talking to him softly and quietly; she was the only… _being_, even as a ghost, to keep him company.

But he _certainly had _been there when poor Draco had finally broken down under the pressure and stress of his failure, at least, that's what Draco had told her through his sobs.

And so, Harry Potter had stood still, stunned _and_ shocked as he witnessed Draco's, rather unusual for him, outburst.

True, Draco _had_ gotten a little carried away later; realizing that Potter had seen him in such a state, he had tried to erase the drowning feeling of humiliation and the clear pity in Potter's eyes — pity for him, a _Malfoy_, no less — by throwing a 'Crucio' at him.

Still, what followed next had no excuse to happen in the first place

Harry Potter had no right whatsoever to use such a barbaric and brutal curse on poor Draco, slashing him sharply and deeply through his chest, the wound ugly and long across his torso.

She was nothing but a ghost, abandoned and mocked even after her death, but she had feelings too. And so she started screaming and crying, flooding the very sink she had died by, and cursing Harry Potter.

The latter rushed to Draco then, and leaned over him; his eyes seemed full of anxiety and concern.

Yeah, _right_. Who did he think he was fooling anyway?

She did double check, however, when Harry Potter, his face screwed up with stress and pain, bent completely over Draco, and gathered him in his arms, muttering some kind of spell to clean up the spreading blood.

And, should she have had real eyes, they would have probably poked out of her skull as they beheld the sight in front of her.

Harry Potter was whispering softly in Draco's ear, his lips touching it, something that sounded suspiciously like '_I'm sorry, so sorry, sorry…Draco, I'm sorry, please…_'; at the same time he was holding the boy tightly to his chest, clutching him so hard his knuckles had whitened.

No way.

She had heard the rumors; Peeves was practically bouncing all the time as he was spreading them. Of course, she didn't believe him.

What kind of a sane person, dead or alive, believed Peeves?

But when Sir Nicholas confirmed it, she had had to face her own denial.

_Harry Potter_? _Obsessed_ with _Draco Malfoy_?

In such a _subtle_ way that even _ghosts_ picked up on it?

_No way!_

Well, dead she might have been, but blind she most certainly wasn't, and the sight she was witnessing could not be denied.

And on top of that, just as things started getting really interesting – no, not because Harry was gently but firmly hugging Draco and as he helped him up, whoever thought that…– this horrible to look at professor with greasy hair stumbled upon them and they left her humble abode.

Damn.

It had been a long time since someone or something that interesting had caught her attention.

She thought about the cute tall guy with the golden egg in the prefect's bathroom she was spying on, two years ago, wondering where he was…

That was a nice view too…

Well, who said ghosts weren't perverted…?


End file.
